


Hammer it Home

by DizzyDrea



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can't even remember him, and truth be told, he wonders if maybe <i>that</i> was the blessing all along. If she doesn't remember, it'll be easier for her to walk away, and while that might kill him, at least she'd be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hammer it Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, maybe I'm the only one that thought it was weird that they skipped from Nick and Sean facing off to the spice shop and Nick downing that disgusting brew. There's something missing there, a huge something. So, this is me filling in that blank.
> 
> Spoilers for _Face Off_
> 
> Disclaimer: Grimm is the property of NBC, Universal Television, GK Productions, Hazy Mills Productions, Open 4 Business Productions LLC and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

"Give me an hour," Nick says into the phone.

He's turning the key over in his hands, warily eying the man standing off to one side, ostensibly to give him privacy, but the man's a wesen, so it's a good bet he can hear everything that's being said.

"Everything okay?" Monroe asks him.

Nick sighs. "Yeah. For now. But I've got to explain this all to Juliette, somehow, and then get her to come with me to the shop."

"Did he—will he come, too?"

Nick can hear Monroe's hesitance loud and clear. He flicks his gaze to the man standing several paces away. Before tonight, he'd have said he trusted Sean Renard with his life. After the conversation they've just had, he still does, but it's different now. Laced with distrust and not just a little anger and resentment that he's forced to trust his life to someone who's been lying to him for so long. Things haven't been right between them for a while, and now he understands just why. 

He sees the irony in that, but it doesn't make it any easier to accept.

"Yeah," Nick says, gusting out the breath he's been holding. "Yeah. He's coming too."

"Okay, good. That's good." He pauses. Then, "Good luck, man."

"Thanks," Nick says, huffing out a humourless laugh.

He hangs up and Renard turns around, both men assessing and wary. Theirs is a fragile truce, both caught up in events beyond their control. He hates this, hates not being on solid ground. As if his life has been a series of seismic shifts over the last year, and one more 4.0 will crumble the ground beneath him. It's unsettling, no pun intended.

"You'll see to Juliette?"

Renard's comment shakes him out of his stormy thoughts. He frowns—more scowls, really—because there's no universe in which this man should have any right to be concerned for his girlfriend's wellbeing.

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah. I'm going to tell her everything. You'll—"

"Be at the spice shop, waiting for you."

Nick nods, once. He'd like to stay angry, but that's not productive. And Renard is being helpful. He's given Nick back the key, and is willing to do whatever it takes to restore what he's lost. He should be grateful, but all he really is, is tired. 

Tired of the whole damned mess.

He climbs into his truck and makes the journey back to Portland, back to his house. It feels like it takes forever, even though it's the same ten miles it was an hour ago. He gives brief thought to just staying on the road, to driving as far and as fast as he can. But Nick Burkhardt has never been a coward, and he's not about to start now. He's going to face this thing and conquer it, no matter what comes.

He can't shake the sense of foreboding, though. He's going to confess things to Juliette that he's wanted to for so long, share a part of his life he's kept from her, no matter the reasons. But instead of joy, the thought tastes bitter. This isn't how he wanted to do this. He wanted to tell her when it mattered, when she remembered him and could forgive him for trying to protect her.

Now, he thinks maybe this'll be the last straw for her. Once she knows the truth, she'll walk straight out of his life. She has no reason to stay, right now. She can't even remember him, and truth be told, he wonders if maybe _that_ was the blessing all along. If she doesn't remember, it'll be easier for her to walk away, and while that might kill him, at least she'd be safe.

But he's selfish, and doesn't want to give her up, even if he has no choice. 

It's a lose-lose situation, and Nick is just so tired of being caught on the wrong end of all things Grimm. He pulls his truck up in front of the house, killing the engine and just sitting, staring at the lights burning brightly inside. He pounds the steering wheel with his palms, allowing himself this one moment of frustration before he pulls his cop mask back on. He has a job to do tonight, and no matter the outcome, he's going to see it through to the end.

He trudges up the front walk, taking the steps two at a time and pushing through the door before he loses his nerve. The house is cleaner now than when he left. No more broken bits of lamp and table littering the floor. He doesn't mourn the lost furniture; it's the third time they've had to replace some of it, so by now he's stopped getting attached.

"Nick?"

He looks up, seeing Juliette framed in the light from the kitchen. She's frowning like she's honestly concerned and for a moment, Nick's irritated. Who is she trying to fool?

He shakes his head to loosen those thoughts. It isn't fair to her, and if he has any hope at all of keeping her, he's got to keep that in mind. She's just as much a victim in this as he is. As Renard is.

"Hi," he says. It's not one of his better lines.

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

He barks out a humourless laugh. "No, things are about as far from okay as you can get."

She takes a step forward, arm reaching for him before she pulls back, as if remembering she's not that person anymore.

He sighs.

"There are some things I need to tell you, and then we need to go to the spice shop."

"The spice shop? Why?"

She's frowning in confusion. He used to love that expression on her; nose scrunched up, a little furrow on her brow. It's the look she wore when she was chasing answers, and he always equated it with her sharp intellect and insatiable curiosity. Now, it just makes him tired.

"Sit down," he says, instead.

She flicks her eyes to the table, then back to him. "Do you want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

"Yeah," he says. He shrugs out of his jacket while she gets the mugs down. She pours him a cup, then nudges it to him, fetching milk and sugar for herself and then leaving them out for him to doctor his own coffee. 

He sighs again.

The old Juliette—the one he'd wanted to marry—knew exactly how he took his coffee, and would prepare it perfectly every time. He misses that Juliette.

He shakes his head. He knows he's going to have to get over this quickly. His Juliette Silverton is gone, and may never come back, and the Juliette he lives with now clearly doesn't love him or even want to fall in love with him. That thought hurts, like a thousand tiny cuts bleeding him to death, slowly and inexorably.

He clamps down on all those thoughts and settles at the table. Juliette sits across from him, as far away as she can get and still be in the same room. There's an uneasy silence, neither one eager to break it, but both knowing someone must.

"There are things you don't understand," Nick says. It's about as cryptic a statement he's ever made to her, but it's also, finally, the truth.

"About Sean?" she asks. Hearing his name spoken so familiarly in her voice cuts just a little deeper, but he tries not to let that show.

"In part," he says. "Do you remember Adalind Schade?"

"Hank dated her for a while, right?" she asks.

Nick nods, for once relieved that the only gaps in her memories are of him. "She's..."

"She's what?" Juliette says. When he doesn't go on, she huffs, letting her irritation show. "Just tell me."

"She cast a spell on you," he says. "Well, on you and Renard."

"As in a magic spell?" Her voice and face register incredulity, and Nick would be right there with her, except this is his life now.

"Yes, a magic spell. I don't know the details," he says, mostly because he hadn't asked. He didn't need to know the how's and why's, only how to fix it, information Rosalee and Monroe have been woefully short on lately. "Essentially, she put you in a coma, and the only way you could be revived was with a kiss. But whoever it was that would kiss you to bring you out of it, would be linked to you in some sort of weird obsession. And that person would replace me in your heart."

Juliette looks down into her coffee cup, as if the answers she was looking for were contained at the bottom. "So, that's why I've been so... drawn to Sean. And why I don't remember you."

"Pretty much," he says.

"How is that even possible?" she asks him, looking up with desperation in her eyes.

He sighs, leans back in his chair. "I'm a Grimm. Adalind's a _hexenbiest_. We live in a world where the creatures of our nightmares lurk just outside our peripheral vision, and the things we were afraid of when we were kids are frighteningly real."

He hadn't meant to just blurt it all out like that, but it feels as though the 900 pound gorilla sitting on his chest has finally decided to take a smoke-break. He can finally breathe easier, and for that he's grateful, even if it comes at Juliette's expense.

"What does that mean, that you're a Grimm?" she asks. "And what's a hexa..."

"A _hexenbiest_ ," he says. He leans forward, bracing his arms on the table. "It's sort of a witch. She cast a spell on Hank last year, trying to get to me. It didn't work, and I was able to take something from her instead of the other way around. This is her revenge."

"And the Grimm thing?"

"I can see them, the creatures," he says. "And I fight them, sometimes, when they can't live peacefully with others. It's a family legacy; I inherited it from Aunt Marie."

"Are there more?" she asks, because yeah, she's a vet, and she'll never not be interested in knowing about unique and interesting creatures.

"You have no idea," is all he says, because she doesn't, and as much as he'd like to tell her, right now is hardly the time. She's a ticking time bomb, she and Renard both are, and if they don't defuse it soon, it'll go off and more than just the two of them will be harmed.

She sits back in her chair, just staring at him. "And this is all real? How is this all real?" She shakes her head, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. Long seconds tick off the clock before she opens her eyes and looks at him. "Can you fix it?"

"I don't know." He goes for honesty rather than optimism, mostly because he's all out of the latter, and he thinks she'll appreciate the truth, especially since he hasn't been telling much of it lately. "But Rosalee thinks she can at least break the obsession spell, so that's a start."

"Rosalee?"

"Rosalee Calvert," Nick says. "She owns the spice shop. I trust her."

Juliette just stares for the longest moment, then finally nods. "Okay. When can we—"

"Right now," he says, not waiting for her to even finish the question. He wants this done yesterday, because the sooner it's done, the sooner he can get on with his life. 

With or without Juliette.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly.

Nick shakes his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Adalind did this, not you. You're just a victim here, same as me." He pauses, but then decides to just go ahead and say it, even if he chokes on the words. "Same as Renard."

"Okay," she says, then stands up. "Let me just get my coat."

He watches her move around, getting her coat, her purse. She stands by the door, waiting for him, and he still hasn't moved. He feels numb. Like he's watching someone else's life. It's an uncomfortable feeling, so he takes a deep breath and pushes up, shaking off the strangeness and taking control again. He grabs his jacket and heads for the door, barely registering that she's following him.

They don't talk, not even a few words as they make their way to the spice shop. He's too busy thinking about what they'll have to do to reverse the spell, and wondering if this is goodbye.

He always knew the truth would cost him something. He only hopes it doesn't end up costing him everything.

~Finis


End file.
